Bane Drabbles (in no particular order)
by Rehaniah
Summary: Bane/OC drabbles staring Bane and my OC, Eva. Warning: these drabbles will not be fluffy! All recognisable characters belong to DC Comics
1. A Conversation

A Conversation

"Do you believe in God, child?" he asks one day.

"No," she says, possibly a shade too quickly. She really must try harder to think before she speaks, especially if it is _him_ she's speaking to. Who knows what might set him off?

"Why?" Silence. The only sound is the rasp of indrawn and exhaled breath through metal.

"I see no evidence of him," she replies.

"Ah." She senses he is pleased with her answer, though she doesn't see why he should be. He continues, "Do you believe in a devil then?"

Her gaze glances to him. His eyes are sparkling and she wonders if a smile lurks behind that mask.

"Yes," she says with only the briefest tremble to her words, "I believe in a devil."

He laughs.

**A/N: Just a drabble that popped into my head – doesn't really relate to anything, though could be read as relating to my other Bane/OC fics.**


	2. Do Not Fear the Reaper

**A/N - Please read:**

**Ok, so this drabble isn't a continuation of the previous one but it is based on the same characters - Bane/OC (Eva). I decided that I would post all my drabbles relating to these two here so that i don't have to keep writing out new summaries for each when they're all quite short.**

**That being said, that means that they won't be in any particular order...**

**Still, for those that want to know, this particular drabble is set sometime after 'Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea' but quite a bit before 'Retribution'.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Do not Fear the Reaper

She is sat cross-legged on the sofa with a book held loosely in her hands. Her eyes go through the motions of moving from left to right, tracing over the lines and curves of the black lettering on the faded paper; a perfect impression of someone immersed in another world… But an impression is all it is. A mere pretence so that she had a reason not to look at _him_. It is a sad fact that even though she does indeed wish for it, her mind will not allow her to fall into another world while in his presence.

He is working on… something, at the desk on the other side of the room. Every so often she will hear the tapping of his fingers on the laptop keyboard or the shuffling of documents.

Bright sunlight drifts lazily in through the net curtain over the window casting the opulent room in a bright golden glow. She does not think that the sun should be able to shine so brightly upon the world that he – that _they_ – were slowly tearing apart…

Her eyes continue their careful deception but she can still see him as he rises from the table. He begins to walk toward her. Her eyes stay glued to the page. She hates the fact that her heartbeat increases. Even after all this time, after everything he's done, his power over her is still so great… She turns the page just as he walks past her, making his way into the bedroom. She allows herself the smallest breath of relief.

Her ears pick up the faint sound of him searching for something – papers being shifted from one place to another.

She hears his footsteps return to the main room. Her heart, having infinitesimally steadied, now picks up again; she silently curses it. Her eyes continue to drift over each printed word even though if he asked her, she would not be able to tell him a single thing about the story she was almost halfway through.

On the edge of her vision his dark form appears again. His footsteps are steady and unhurried as they once again cross the room. Evidently he has found whatever it was he was looking for.

He is almost past her when he unexpectedly stops. The movement is abrupt and she knows he hadn't intended to stop… The fact that he did brings a strained tension to her entire body. She channels her focus into keeping her breathing even - not just her eyes, but her whole body now becoming the pretence. Her gaze does not leave the book. She is reminded of the mean child in kindergarten – _maybe if you don't look, they'll go away…_

She sees one of his hands – the hand nearest her – rise and it is all she can do not to drop the book.

Her eyes flicker as he runs his forefinger along the underside of her chin. His skin is warm; always far too warm… She has lost whatever place she had but continues to stare unfailingly at the black script until it begins to merge and swirl in front of her. Her heart feels like it's in her throat.

His hand cups her cheek and there is the slightest pressure; an indication – no, an express desire – for her to raise her head. She does so, unwillingly but obediently for he will allow for nothing less.

As her eyes make their way upwards she spies a sheaf of documents held loosely in his other hand. She wonders which city will be the one to fall next…

The time it takes is both infinitely long and infinitely short but finally her eyes meet his.

There is a long moment where all he does is observe her; his cold orbs the colour of burnt ashes seeming to drain the life right out of her, just as they've been doing every day since she met him.

Finally he speaks,

"Are you enjoying your book?" he asks leaning his head ever-so-slightly to one side – the mannerism indicating polite interest; the tone of his voice indicating something else entirely. They are both playing at pretence now but he is far more skilled at it than she.

The dilemma comes from which answer to give; to say no would be disrespectful. To say yes would be a lie. She does not know which would yield the best result; the least dangerous result…

"Yes," she answers after only the briefest pause… She really hopes he will leave it at that. He continues to watch her. She can read nothing from his expression.

She wants to glance down; to at least try to figure out what the hell it is she's been 'reading' for the past several hours but his hold on her makes that impossible. _What if he asks her about it_? she wonders wrestling with the edge of panic.

Unexpectedly the skin around his eyes crinkles and he lets out an ominous rumbling sound; a deep chuckle bleeding out from behind the darkness of the mask. The noise does absolutely nothing to soothe her mind or body.

The sound fades until all that is left is silence once again. He continues watching her - not that he ever stopped. His thumb moves up and down over the soft skin of her cheek; the touch gentle – at odds with the man she knows him to be…

"Fear becomes you, my dear." His words are darkly mocking. She knows he takes pleasure in other peoples fear and despite her sincerest efforts she cannot bring herself not to be afraid… It is impossible for her to do anything but hold his gaze…

His palm feels like it's searing itself onto her skin, connecting them together, making her mind envision a future point in time… an inevitable manifestation of his complete dominion over her… She has to turn her mind away from that…

There is no humour in his face now; any previous trace having slowly drained away.

Without warning he leans his head down and she cannot contain her gasp of surprise. He holds himself barely an inch away from her, his inhuman breathing reverberating in a mechanical drone. She hates that mask – even though it is probably the most honest thing about him; _not human_…

His voice comes to her again,

"I will look forward to hearing your opinion on it."

For a millisecond she has absolutely no glue as to what he's referring to but then it clicks – _the book_. He is talking about the book again… The book that she was halfway through and that she hadn't read a single word of…

She swallows and remembers to breathe. His eyes continue to bore into her until finally, they break their hold.

His gaze idly wanders over her the contours of her face, lingering just a moment too long on her lips before he straightens back up to his colossal height, removing his touch from her as he does so. Her heart stutters with something similar to relief, though not quite as hopeful.

She continues to look up at him and his eyes glow just slightly before he turns away and continues on his previous path.

Through the panic-filled relief her mind jabs at her – _the book_. Her eyes flicker over to him; he has his back to her as he lays the new papers on the desk. With the swiftest of movements she flips to the cover of the book, her mind snapping a picture of it, before she is once again staring at her previous place.

She takes a deep breath as the title's words burn themselves into her mind;

_Crime and Punishment_.


End file.
